As to the other agents in the business, various entries in the Patent Rolls, and in the Docket Book of King Richard’s grants, show that they did not pass unrewarded.  Before the murder Green had been appointed comptroller of the customs at Boston, and had also been employed to provide horse meat and litter for the King’s stables; afterward, if we may trust a note by Strype—­but I own I cannot find his authority—­he was advanced to be receiver of the Isle of Wight and of the castle and lordship of Portchester.  To Dighton was granted the office of bailiff of Ayton in Staffordshire.  Forest died soon after, and it appears he was keeper of the wardrobe at Barnard castle, but whether appointed before or after the murder there is no evidence to show.  Brackenbury received several important grants, some of which were of lands of the late Lord Rivers.

And yet hitherto Richard’s life, though not unmarked by violence, had been free from violence to his own flesh and blood.  Even his most unjustifiable measures were somewhat in the nature of self-defence; or if in any case he had stained his hands with the blood of persons absolutely innocent, it was not in his own interest, but in that of his brother, Edward IV.  The rough and illegal retribution which he dealt out to Rivers, Vaughan, Hawte, Lord Richard Grey, and Lord Hastings was not more severe than perhaps law itself might have authorized.  The disorders of civil war had accustomed the nation to see justice sometimes executed without the due formalities; and his neglect of those formalities had not hitherto made him unpopular.  But the license of unchecked power is dangerous, no less to those who wield than to those who suffer it; and it was peculiarly so to one of Richard’s violent and impatient temper.  He had been allowed so far to act upon his own arbitrary judgment or will that expediency was fast becoming his only motive and extinguishing within him both humanity and natural affection.

Nevertheless, he was not yet sunk so low as to regard his own unnatural conduct with indifference.  Deep and bitter remorse deprived him of all that tranquillity in the possession of power for the attainment of which he had imbrued his hands in blood.  “I have heard by credible report,” says Sir Thomas More, “of such as were secret with his chamberers, that after this abominable deed done he never had quiet in his mind, he never thought himself sure.  Where he went abroad, his eyes whirled about, his body privily fenced, his hand ever on his dagger, his countenance and manner like one always ready to strike again.  He took ill rest at nights, lay long waking and musing; sore wearied with care and watch, he rather slumbered than slept.  Troubled with fearful dreams, suddenly sometimes started he up, leapt out of his bed and ran about the chamber.  So was his restless heart continually tossed and tumbled with the tedious impression and stormy remembrance of his most abominable deed.”